“My point is that you haven’t had anything to do with the business. We arranged it all with Tithers and you weren’t even asked to give your consent. I don’t see what more could have been done for your scruples.” “Hilda’s mother might have been asked.” “I can’t stop here arguing with you all afternoon,” said Lalage. “Come on, Hilda.” “Don’t go just yet. I promise not to mention Hilda’s mother again.” “We can’t possibly stay, can we, Hilda? We have our viva to-morrow.” “Viva!” “Voce,” said Lalage. “You must know what that means. The kind of exam you don’t write.” I got viva into its natural connection with voce and grasped at Lalage’s meaning. “Part of the Jun. Soph. Ord.?” I said. “Of course,” said Lalage. “What else could it be?” “In that case I mustn’t keep you. You’ll be wanting to look up your astronomy. But you must allow me to parcel up the rest of the cakes for you. I should like you to have them and you’re sure to be hungry again before bedtime.” “Won’t you want them yourself?” “No, I won’t. And even if I did I wouldn’t eat them. It would hardly be fair to Mr. Titherington. He’s doing his best for me and he’ll naturally expect me to keep as fit as possible.” “Very well,” said Lalage, “rather than to leave them here to rot or be eaten by mice we’ll take them. Hilda, pack them up in that biscuit tin and take care that the creamy ones don’t get squashed.” Hilda tried to pack them up, but the biscuit tin would not hold them all. We had not finished the wafers which it originally contained. I rang for the waiter and made him bring us a cardboard box. We laid the cakes in it very tenderly. We tied on the lid with string and then made a loop in the string for Hilda’s hand. It was she who carried both the box and the biscuit tin. “Good-bye,” said Lalage. “We’ll meet again on the twenty-first.” It was not until after they were gone that I understood why we should meet again on the twenty-first. That was the day of my first meeting in East Connor, and Lalage had promised to speak at it. I felt very uneasy. It was utterly impossible to guess at what might happen when Lalage appeared in the constituency. I sat down and wrote a letter to Canon Beresford. I did not expect him to do anything, but it relieved my mind to write. After all, it was his business, not mine, to look after Lalage. Three days later I got an answer from him, which said: